


The Other Man's Lament

by Porphyrios



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M, Misery, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 17:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20624582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porphyrios/pseuds/Porphyrios
Summary: I read Danse-or-Farkas' story Time Later to Put Things Right, and this scene from Chapter 22 wouldn't stop haunting me.  I woke up with this version of the scene rattling around in my head.  This is my take on it, as a tribute to an excellent author.





	The Other Man's Lament

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Danse-or-Farkas (Markond)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markond/gifts).

"You wished to speak with me. How may I be of assistance?" Danse asked; protocol was a friend in moments like this. He sat ramrod straight in the old chair, his shirt not even touching the spindly chair back. Sturges leaned casually against the old workbench but his face belied the ease of his pose. His huge, scarred hands kept turning a socket wrench over and over, and he was looking down, refusing to meet Danse's eyes.

"I reckon Preston told you about... uh..." Sturges started, and a flush crawled up his dusky face, "about Nate and me. Our history, I mean."

"Ahem." Danse hated conversations like this. Hated them. The awkwardness, the uncertainty, the looming sense of dread that something nameless but horrible would happen... and this was worse because it was him involved. This was precisely why he avoided all forms of interpersonal attachment in the Brotherhood. Yet, he thought grimly, here he was. He fought to keep a bitter chuckle from escaping, because Sturges would probably misinterpret it. "Yes, he mentioned something to that effect. I'm sure this must be difficult, and I apologize for my part in..."

"I ain't lookin' for an apology." Came Sturges' brusque reply. "It is what it is. Nate did it, not you." Sturges took a deep breath and let it out, then looked up and met Danse's eyes. Meeting those eyes was like staring into an open wound. Danse had seen men who knew full well they were dying, men whose entrails were in their own hands, who didn't look like that. "I don't even know why I'm tellin' you any of this. I just... I guess I just wanted you to know." The silver wrench spun around and around, tiny in his hands. "I didn't... I never meant to fall for him. When I was in Quincy, I never did stuff like that, I didn't fool around with people. It was easier that way, y'know?"

"I... yes. I understand. All too well." Danse was uncharacteristically overcome with compassion. He had felt the same in the Brotherhood. In some way, he saw himself sitting in front of him. Would he be any less upset in this situation? Probably not.

"Well, maybe you do. Preston always said you were kind of a cold fish. No offense." Sturges was shaking his head now, staring off into space. "When he came in that museum, guns blazing, all handsome like the Devil himself, I thought 'this looks like trouble'. But I thought to myself, you've just been rescued, like one of them princesses in a storybook, but there ain't no need to get all foolish about it. So I tried." Those bitter, hurting eyes looked up again, pinned Danse to the chair more effectively than a railgun. "God knows I tried so hard. He'd come back with his swagger and his toys and his stories, and he'd sit around and I'd just watch. I wanted him then, but he didn't know. I was just Sturges, and 'everybody knows Sturges ain't about the urges'." A snort of angry, bitter laughter. "That's what they used to say in Quincy when I'd turn folks down."

"I..." Danse wanted to say something, apologize, but what was an appropriate response to this? He settled for "I'm sorry." He felt stupid saying it, useless, like trying to stop a flood with a scrap of cloth, but what else do you say?

Sturges ignored him like he hadn't even spoken. "Then he came back one day and told us he'd met you. Big, strong Paladin, so handsome, such a good fighter, so impressive, on and on and on. I was jealous, but I figured hey, good for him. This Paladin don't know how lucky he is to get the man everybody wants, but still, good for him. Nobody around here can offer him that much. I sure as hell couldn't. I watched him get more and more wrapped around the axle about this Paladin, because the thing was, the Paladin, he just wasn't that interested. As far as Nate could tell, he didn't even know Nate had feelin's. Or didn't care, which was worse." Danse felt like nails were being driven into his body. He wanted to scream, protest about just how much he wanted Nate, how badly he burned to... but it didn't matter. At this point, it would be irrelevant. This wasn't about the past, this was a man opening a wound that had been festering far too long.

"So," Sturges went on, "one day Nate came wanderin' into town, lower than a snake's belly, because this Paladin feller wouldn't give him the time of day. And right then, he looked at me. Like, really looked. He even seemed to like what he saw. Well, he could tell that I wanted him real bad, hell, even the dog could tell at that point. I was already bad off, totally head over heels." A chuckle came that sounded more like a sob. "And he came around, and we hooked up. Did it a lot. God _damn_ I was so happy. I thought I didn't have a chance, moped around for months, but here he was, and here I was, and I wanted to... shit, I don't know, I guess I wanted to show him that I could be what he needed, you know? Maybe I wasn't 'the Paladin', but I could offer myself and I had enough pride to think that wasn't too shabby. Shit." Sturges got up and walked over to where a cooler was tucked away in the corner, grabbing a beer and popping off the cap. "I need to drink to get through this. You want one?" Danse nodded gently, figuring it would at least give him something to do with his hands. Sturges opened the beer and passed it over, then went back to his bench. This time instead of leaning, he hoisted himself up to sit, muscular thighs straining the overall pants, huge workboots dangling almost to the floor.

"Problem was, I wasn't the Paladin. See, I didn't know that Nate wasn't over him even a little bit. Over the next month or so, I figured that out. And I can't lie, that stung like hell. I was the booby prize, the second choice, the also-ran. But I figured, you know what, fuck it. I'll take what I can get. Guess by then I didn't have much pride left, because Nate's like a drug, ain't he? The more you get, the more you want, you can't ever get enough of that light and that fury and that passion." Danse thought he had never heard it put quite so perfectly, despite the other man's heavy accent. "So we kept on. He'd come back in town and give me the glad-eye, and I'd drop whatever I was doin' and follow him around like a puppy. And I found out that the only thing worse than not getting what you want is actually getting it. Because one day, he shows up and tells me, all serious, that we can't go on. It's been great and nothin' against you, Sturges, but I think I might have a shot with my god... damn... Pala...." Sturges was crying now, tears pouring down his cheeks. He cursed and wiped his face, then took a long pull off his beer and sat for a moment. When he'd gotten himself back under control, he continued, "So thank you very much, Sturges, if you don't mind, just put it all back in the box and I'll be around, no hard feelin's, hope we're still friends. And off he went."

Sturges looked up again, eyes shining in the gloom. "I wanted to kill you." Danse hoped he wasn't in danger, but by this point he would have let the other man beat him if that's what it took. Eyeing Sturges' size and muscles, he had second thoughts. Maybe not. "I don't think you know what that means. I ain't one of these angry people, I don't fight. Never have. I'm big but I like fixin' things, not breakin' 'em. But I sure as hell wanted to kill you. Because I didn't even know you, but you had hurt me so bad, twice, without even knowing me. Once by keeping him from me, and once by takin' him away once I finally had him. At least I thought I had him." Sturges didn't look like he was any danger to anyone now, slumped over his beer bottle in the semi-darkness, tear tracks on his face, a portrait of misery and despair. "But I realized, the truth is, I never really had him. And that's the worst part of all of it. Danse," Hearing his name for the first time made Danse startle a bit. He looked up and unwillingly met Sturges' eyes, fearing to see the pain in them again, but this time there was only sadness and determination. "The only reason I ever got any of Nate at all was because he thought you didn't want him. It was never about me in the first place. I was just a placeholder, he never gave a damn about me. I had to realize that the happiest times in my life were only the scraps from another man's table. And I reckon that's bullshit."

"That..." Danse said hoarsely. "Yeah. Nobody should have to feel like that." He thought that he barely sounded like himself, but protocol only stretches so far. What do you say in the face of this level of pain? "I didn't know. I don't know what I could have done even if I did. But for what it's worth, I truly am sorry."

"Well, I appreciate it. And you're a good man for sayin' so. But that ain't the point." Sturges laughed again humorlessly. "I know now that you and me, we didn't have much choice in the matter. We really are a lot alike, you and me. Nate is the flame, and we're just moths. We can't do anything other than our nature. We dive in, even if it kills us." Sturges reached down beside the workbench and Danse felt a brief moment of anxiety in spite of himself. When the other man's hand came up, though, there was a pack clutched in it, which the mechanic slung over his shoulders. "This moth has had enough, though. I wish y'all well, and hope it all goes smooth for you, but I ain't stickin' around to watch it and eat my guts out like a dog chewin' at an old bone. I'm headed out."

"Sturges," Danse said unwillingly. "I... Sanctuary can't run without you. I can't say I don't understand, but... fuck." He ran his hand through his hair, cursing. "I barely know you, but I know this is not the solution anyone wants, including Nate. Can't you stay until tomorrow, talk about it with people...?"

"Nope, mind's made up," the mechanic said. "Been thinkin' about this for a while. Like I said, I wish you two all the best. Please don't come lookin' for me. If I can get away from Nate, maybe, hell, I don't know. Maybe there's a chance I can find someone who actually wants me for me, instead of wanting me because I might be you in the dark." With that, the other man vanished into the darkness like a cat. Danse sat in his chair, staring off into space, until Nate came to find him.


End file.
